The Teenager and The Lady with a Vision within Me.
Introspection can open the very few unexplored dimensions of oneself, with each passing day we get to know who we truly are under the 3-4 layers of various impressions we’ve coated our self with for the contrasting personalities that surround us.
Introspection has led me into believing that there is a bubbly teenager within me and also a lady with a vision who aims for the best only.
It is that lady who guides me throughout and helps me project my mannerisms according to the situation and people present around.
Things need to be neutral, because one cannot lose the best years of their life in just planning what they have to do ahead or glue there eyes to every turning page of the book.
Finding it a bit intricate to explain, but here’s it, juveniles crave attention from everyone at some point and have a different definition of being cool, overtime their perspectives change, either making them more adamant over the habits which are supposed to be eradicated or accepting the truth and moving on, making themselves stronger and bringing them a step closer to help themselves know as to what is really necessary.
That’s how I’ll be living now, with memories being a problem.
The real problem is that, those memories hit harder than anguish,
for those were the purest and deceased the anxiety within.
For me it was what I thought,
Raindrops on the head,
With feet in a pool full of regrets and imprecise notions.
Hair oiled with pity and hands trying to let go the grip over the weakened knees.
As I sat there the pool seemed to be a teal coloured ocean,
Exactly the way I considered small things to be a signal of perpetuity.
Finding happiness in little things seemed to be a lot more different than the delusion of glorifying other little things.
Never thought that memories could takeaway a lot from me, but they did, cause I let them.
Hindering on the soft wet sand I affirmed, with the inner voice loud and clear.
“Too much has been taken,
Too much is yet to be gone,
Too much is yet to be received,
Let this seep in, with fluidity and peace,
For you are all by yourself with expectations modest or none.
Ever since she lost the most important man in her life, she was lonely and remembered each of his difficult times he went through for her…
She seldom realised her father’s efforts which he had put into making her enjoy every moment in the childhood in his wife’s absence forever..
She had started to realise the value of the most important person when he was lost. She realised her father’s affectionate behaviour which, back then, she considered to be a part of every parent’s irritating and uncertain behaviour…
She cried softly lying in the bed, imagining the support she would get from the only man who truly loved her, her shoulder for crying had disappeared into grey ash by the river…
This was a consequence of judging a person and hating him for being a possesive man….
She wouldn’t have done this to her very own lover, considering it as true love, whereas she was treated like ‘nothing’ by the boy 6 year older to her….
She now realised that she was her father’s queen and her cynical lover’s innocent girl….
These unpredictable instances reminded her of her hardworking father, his perseverant attitude at any point in life….
She chose to follow her dreams, and make her father proud even when he wasn’t there, but her mind and soul considered him to be very much near her, guiding and loving her…
The phase will pass away, leaving the good and bad imprints on the person and the personality. The goodness will be reflective in the actions and decisions, and the disgrace in giving up! So make sure that disgrace is never highlighted or emphasized upon!
At times one wants to do something good without doing anything and that results into the loss of creativity and development. Do all that it takes to get what you want and you’ll have what you wanted along with the experiences and lessons which will walk with you and climb every step with you to amplify your journey with memories good and bad and spirits always lofty post the storm.
I lay there watching the moon sink upwards into the clouds and that very much sums up my thought process on bleak days.
The beauty that resided before the rinderpest has now been taken over by merely explicit thoughts.
I do not know how to deal with those, so all I do is jot each and every word that comes to my mind, rearrange those and get the answer as to what is happening in my mind.
And that’s why poetry is beautiful.
When no one knows what a silent mind fosters, it’s the poetry which brings out the prudence and iffy in me.
With a pen he wrote each time,
On the wrist, dragging it all the way to the palm and encircling the fingers to form rings.
Then slowly the hands as cold as the fear in me were clasped and caressed gently,
As if putting of a fire you lit on purpose with just a few droplets of the wine from the glass.
Then slowly the hands advanced towards the shoulders, shivering in the muddled icy environment on the sofa near the furnace.
The clasp went so tight that my shoulders stood still and I lost all the strength to sense what was happening, then all I heard was, “do you still love me?”
I stood there until he looked at me from the entrance door, with a bouquet of yellow roses, bound the way I’d love to see them, and an arousing scent of vanilla aphrodisiac filling the little cosy room!
How? How? How could it be? He had lost way before into the smog and cloud and seemed like the one at the door came from there, bestowing all the grot in him to the clouds making them heavier to pour down and demolition the crud!